


The Vessel With The Pestle

by girlintheglen



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlintheglen/pseuds/girlintheglen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little silliness and an homage to Danny Kaye</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Vessel With The Pestle

The old mill was a relic from past centuries, a stark reminder that time would ravage all things, eventually.As Illya Kuryakin looked around the grounds he was aware that his partner Napoleon was watching him.

"What? You know it would go faster if you also searched for our missing vessel."The Russian had an uneasy feeling, an irrational uneasiness that was causing his words to be clipped and harsh.

 "The vessel… ' Napoleon looked skyward as he considered something.  Illya continued to look tense.

 "The pellet with the poison's in the vessel with the pestle."

 "What on earth are you talking about now?'

 Napoleon smiled at the memory of one of his favorite films.

 "The pellet with the poison's in the vessel with the pestle. The chalice from the palace holds the brew that is true."  He had remembered it, the reward of seeing the iconic film repeatedly one afternoon, staying in the shadows and re-entering the theater until the last showing.  It was a pleasant memory to have in this forgotten place.

 Illya was fairly fuming now, his patience at an end with such nonsense.  

 "I do not have any idea what you are going on about, and we still do not have the… the vessel."  He spat out the word like something bad in his mouth.  Napoleon could be so …

 "Wait a minute. Perhaps your nonsense is worth something after all."  He retraced his steps back to where he had seen an old headstone.  The monument had been in this place for centuries, but clearly engraved on it was the image of a drinking vessel, a goblet.

 Napoleon followed his irascible partner towards the old stone marker and sure enough, there it was.  He had a bad feeling about what might come next.

 "Are you telling me we're going to have to …?"

 "Dig up this grave… yes, I think perhaps we will."  The Russian went to his backpack and pulled out a small shovel that unfolded to a usable length.  He removed his jacket and with one last long look at Napoleon, began digging.

 It was at least thirty minutes before something solid was found.  Both men began to dig with their hands until they saw the lid of the ancient coffin.  They both took deep breaths before lifting the lid, surprised that it held no bones or human remains, only the goblet they had been searching for.

 "Well I'll be…'  Napoleon whistled at the find, happy that it wasn't a grisly sight after all.

 "Yes, well… I believe we _will_ both be, or something to that effect." Illya reached in and retrieved the prized object, then placed it in the backpack from where he'd gotten the shovel.

 "Okay then, I guess that's that."  Illya nodded.  No THRUSH trying to steal it, no innocents  to protect.  All in all the day had gone very well.  Suddenly the scene around him made the Russian feel at ease, bucolic almost for its beauty.

 "Very well then, shall we head back to the hotel and grab our things?  I'm ready to go home."  Napoleon  had a date the next night that he didn't want to miss.  Ending this without complication was making for a nice prelude to dinner with Cheri Lane.

 "Yes, let us go quickly.  I am also ready to be back in New York."  

 Nothing special was calling him home, but it was calling nonetheless.

 


End file.
